Sable Peak (The Edens, #6)

by Devney Perry

He strode into the room wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black plaid shirt with its sleeves rolled up his forearms. It hung open, revealing a white T-shirt underneath that pulled tight across his broad chest. A silver and gold belt buckle gleamed beneath a flat stomach. His brown cowboy boots were scuffed and faded. Like the other Edens, he had dark hair and sapphire eyes. It was the playful grin that set him apart. The mischievous smirk on his soft lips. The sharp corners of his stubbled jaw and the twinkle in his blue gaze. This kitchen was full of beautiful people. He put them all to shame.

“Hey.” He dipped his chin, like he was tipping an invisible hat. “I’m Mateo.” That name locked into place for all time. Mateo.

He winked. At. Me. The girls at the table didn’t get winks. Lyla didn’t get a wink. Just me. What did that mean? Did he wink at everyone? Or just girls with nice home haircuts?

“Um, what’s up?” God, that sounded stupid. My voice was too breathy and that was actually the dumbest question of all time. What’s up? The sky, Vera. Your hopes. Your delusions.

He was the light. My light. The shining star that chased away the dark.

“I’m done waiting for you to see me.” I flew from the bar. I ran. And as I raced down Quincy’s sidewalks, I put my love for Mateo away. I shoved it in that locked box. And buried it down deep.

I’m done waiting for you to see me. I saw Vera. I’d always seen Vera. She was sweet. Strong. Her hair went wild sometimes and she’d get so annoyed she’d rake it into a ponytail with a huff that always made me chuckle. She loved cherry tomatoes. I hated them but always thought it would be weird to offer her food from my plate because that was something couples did and we weren’t a couple.

She was beautiful. Vera had a beauty not a soul would miss. “Will you give Allie a birthday kiss for me?” she asked. Sad. Tired. Embarrassed. But she’d still remembered Allie’s birthday. Because Vera loved my daughter. My daughter loved Vera. That meant something. That meant everything. I’m done waiting for you to see me. Something shifted beneath my feet like moving sand. Things in my chest, around my brain, rearranged. It was like a deck of cards being shuffled. There was before. This was after.

But I just . . . needed to spend time with her. Alone. Because Vera had kissed me, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It felt like someone had slipped glasses on my face. And that someone had given me permission to see.

A strange feeling stirred in my chest. What was it? Pride? Possession? Whatever it was, I liked seeing her wear my glasses. This was about to get complicated, wasn’t it?

“You’re flying an airplane, Peach.” Peach? Where the hell had that come from? It had just . . . slipped out. Like I should have been calling her Peach for years. Like the way I’d started calling Alaina Sprout. One day she didn’t have a nickname. The next, she did. And Peach was Vera’s.

Clear and a million. Today, I was seeing clear and a million. “Will you teach me to fly?” she asked. Spend hours and hours with her, alone and above the world? “Absolutely.”

That kiss she’d given me at Willie’s hadn’t just been an eye-opener. It had been permission. There were no more lines. Something here was worth exploring, and I wasn’t wasting my chance.

She nodded and turned for the door. But she whirled back in a flash, and before I knew it was happening, she rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then she ran. She was always running. But at least this time, she’d kissed me first.

“Why do you call me Peach?” So she had noticed. She hadn’t reacted when I’d said it last night. I’d assumed either she hadn’t heard it or she didn’t like it. I threaded my fingers through her hair. “Because your hair reminds me of a sun-ripened peach on a hot summer day. Because you’re sweet. And because it’s my favorite fruit.” “No, it’s not. You like strawberries best.” “Not anymore,” I murmured, bending to take her lips.

“I was locking up and spilled my coffee.” She gave herself an eye roll and opened the door so we could come inside. “Not my most graceful moment.” “Ah. Want to take a shower? Or just change your shirt before we leave?” Vera blinked. “Uh, where are we going?” “Home.” “Oh. Um, I didn’t . . . I have to study tonight.” “Okay.” She didn’t move. Why wasn’t she moving? “Vera, get your stuff.” “But you just said okay.” “Okay, as in you can study at home. Allie sleeps best in her bed. And I want you in mine.” Her cheeks pinkened. It never got old.

“I love you, Vera. I fucking love you. I won’t leave you. And I won’t let you go.”

“How’s the weather, Peach?” “Better than I expected,” she whispered. “It started overcast and gray.” “And now?” She smiled. “Clear and a million.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Peach. We go together. From here to Idaho to the ends of the earth.”